


Caleb only drinks alone

by cactusthespacecat



Category: The College Tapes (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, but not in this fic, everything will be okay, im writing and postin gthis drunk without rereading this, no really dont read this unless youre a kinnie or something, no really this is a vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:29:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28648338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactusthespacecat/pseuds/cactusthespacecat
Summary: This is just an in character vent fic I'm posting to get it off my phoneThis is nothing but painCW PASSING MENTION OF NSFW TOPICS (near the end)stream karma by AJR though
Relationships: Adam Hayes/Caleb Michaels
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Caleb only drinks alone

Caleb only drinks alone.

There’s no point drinking with other people, if they drink he feels it. Can’t get away from it. Can’t away from feeling how other people feel all the damned time. Needing to fix it.

But with a drink in hand, sitting on the floor in the living room, Caleb truly feels alone. 

It’s almost nice, feeling his thoughts echo around, his feelings. HIS feelings, and that’s it.

So why does it feel so fucking bad? 

Why was his jaw clenched and his eyes heavy and the drink in his hand… FUCK the drink tasted bad. But it was all they had, and tonight was the only night the other three were out of the house. Caleb can’t can’t even remember why they were out. Did they invite him? Probably not. Probably for the better.

Fuck, that was stupid to think. If they invited him and he said no, that’s fine. If they didn’t, it’s not because they hated him and wanted nothing to do with him. Fuck, what if they hated him and wanted nothing to with him, though? He wouldn’t blame them.

Caleb was the guiding force in so many decisions that they did as a group, what if that was annoying or harmful? He should let Sadie take charge more, it wasn’t fair for him to use his power to keep tabs on everyone all the time.

Caleb could feel his heartbeat in his hands as he cradled the mug closer. 

Why did his feelings feel so bad, if no one else was around?

Why was the anger so sour underneath the surface, why was the foul taste of bitterness sparking at the ends of his fingertips? Wasn’t booze supposed to make things… better? Why did it feel so fucking awful to be alone? 

His head itched.

Itched like something was scratching to break free underneath his scalp. His phone was next to him, but it felt like swimming through syrup to even look at it. 

“Lemme know when you’re there safe.” He remembers telling Sadie.

His eyes welled with tears, knowing that she hadn’t said anything. 

Not because she wasn’t safe, Frankie and Ben were posting stuff from their night out and she was fine.

Because she forgot. And that’s okay, fuck OF COURSE it’s okay. She deserved to have fun, and Caleb only asked that she text him because he wanted to know she was safe but she FORGOT.

Caleb was shivering, cupping his hands around the mug like it was warm, instead of some cheap liquor from next door.

He thought about going for a walk.

And then forgot that he was thinking about anything to look at his phone. A few mindless videos, and a few sips from the mug. Gosh the drink was gross, but it had a high alcohol content so it’d… do. 

Doctor Bright would be pissed. 

“Just go out with your friends, Caleb. Your ability makes it-”

“I know, my ability makes it so that I can absorb the good mood that other people are feeling, and it’s a drunk that doesn’t hurt my liver. Best of both worlds, Hannah Montana style.”

But was it enough?

Was the drink in his hand to damage his memory of the night or damage his liver?

If being drunk was supposed to feel good, why the fuck did it feel so bad?

Was it the hurt that had Caleb staying home?

Not asking Adam to hang out like he normally would? 

He just felt… lost.

Caleb had done everything he was supposed to. He had friends he met at college, friends who really fucking cared about him. He had a wonderful boyfriend. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good, and it was happy. He had a place to sleep, to live, and even a cute cat.

So why did everything suck so fucking bad, sitting here by himself?

If he wasn’t happy without feeling other people, what did happy really mean?

Full of fucking emotions and all that he could feel by himself was a dull, lonely anger and fear.

He was starting to double blink because of the alcohol.

Too much booze to keep track of, but he had marked the bottle in case he didn’t make it to bed. For Sadie, for Frankie, for Ben. So they didn’t worry. 

So they never have to worry. 

He should move to his bed, so he’s not sleeping in the middle of the living room. So they don’t have to worry. They don’t deserve to have to worry, to think about him. Caleb will be fine. Just coasting.

Caleb worries for other people, not the other way around. No one has to worry about Caleb Fucking Michaels, king of the phrase “I’ll take care of it.” King of “don’t worry about it.” King of “What’s up, it’ll be alright.” King of “It’s okay, I’ll be fine.”

One fist connected with the palm of the other hand, like some catcher in a basketball game, and it made a slap in the quiet room. His palm stung.

But he felt present for a second. He was still loved, even as a burden. Still cared for. Worthy of showing his own emotions instead of just reflecting other people’s hurt.

His jaw wasn’t so clenched now. He was still shivering, but it was okay.

No, it wasn’t. It felt like there was a bomb in his chest; heavy and raw. Not okay. He was so lost and empty. Maybe the reason that he was so able to contain other people’s positive emotions was because he didn’t have any of his own.

A whole person made of hate and anger and a righteous need to help others. 

That wasn’t true. Caleb loved people. Love was an emotion.

Caleb loved Sadie and Frankie and Ben, and hell, Alice and Mark, too. And he loved Sam and Chloe and Doctor Bright, in their own way. And Adam.

Adam.

Directions are so hard when you don’t know how a compass works, and the only thing that looks like north is a big glowing sign that tells you to follow the person that you love.

But fuck, it was hard to walk. 

No, literally; Caleb was standing now, sort of at an angle where none of his body REALLY felt like it was touching the ground; while somehow it still felt like he was on the floor. He pet the cat, Goose, as he passed. Probably. 

And he was on the bed. It all felt so cold and dry compared to his skin, and he found himself bundled in blankets he hadn’t used since the last time he got drunk.

He thought for a moment about jacking off; remembered that the only way he really got off in a timely manner is by feeling someone else get off. Maybe he was actually asexual, if he wasn’t looking for sex without anyone around, what could that mean for the “what feelings are his” thing?

He got to a fitful sleep, head pounding, trying not to think about everything that was going wrong, waiting for the alarm set for when Ben, Sadie, and Frankie were supposed to come back.


End file.
